30 months: nursing comes to an end

And just like that, I’m no longer a nursing mom. I sat down with my son in the rocking chair in the corner of his room on Sunday, December 6 and snuggled him close. I thought back to all the relaxing and weird places I’ve fed my kids. A Chuck e Cheese bathroom stall, the airplane middle seat, the bunk bed at my parents’ cabin, my office in between worship services and sitting on the beach. Sometimes up to 8 times a day, I would sneak off to a quiet spot and get these moments with my children. Sometimes they were painful, boring and difficult. Most of the time they were a great reminder to slow down and pause.

I’ve spent a total of 30 months of my life feeding my two kids in this way. 15 months with each of them. I’m okay to be done. It’s time. It’s sad and it’s good.

I won’t miss pumping at work or on airplanes, rushing home from a meeting to nurse him or the inability to be away from him for longer than 4 hours at a time.

I don’t have anything profound to say about this transition in my life. There are plenty of metaphors and imagery of nursing and the spiritual life. But it’s not the time. I get to do a lot of looking at my life through spiritual eyes – and right now, I just need to mark this moment for what it is to me: a big change that is quietly disappearing. Wesley is just fine with his bottle of whole milk each evening. We still cuddle and sing and whisper and smile. We’re still connected. But it’s different.

Another parenting transition arrives. Time to let go, again. I hear more of this is coming. Joy. 🙂